Nobody in the Mist
by Tinted Windows
Summary: What happens when you, against all odds and reason, get close with one of your fellow tributes before the Games even begin? Two friends are pitted against each other in a heartbreaking struggle for life and humanity.
1. The End

**This story is co authored by Tinted Windows and Leia Emberblaze…enjoy!**

Kirsi Paavo: District Eleven

It was the day of the reaping. The sun was rising over the orchards, its reddish light send spears of bloody illumination across the rustling leaves. Since I resided at the House of Orphans my workload in the harsh fields was doubled. Peackeepers didn't give much thought to whipping commoners and they spared even less mercy for hollow eyed orphans. No one wanted us, so I knew they wouldn't care if my name was pulled from that morbid jar of fate.

At noon we assembled around the raised wooden square. People pressed in on me from all sides, craning to get a good view. There were far too many children in District Eleven for people to bother organizing us by age. We were just crammed into a pen like animals before the slaughter. I had just turned fifteen, so I was more likely to be chosen than the frightened children clinging to their parents' arms.

Glau Calixo, the stone faced man that dolled out the Capital's cruel justice once a year, watched us like we were no better than beasts of burden. I would've launched a rock at him had he not been so intimidating. "I will draw the girl's name first," he announced in a bored monotone. One of Glau's huge hands dropped into the sea of paper like an eagle's talons drop into a lake. His fingers closed around one scrap and lifted it out. My throat tightened with suspense. I always liked to get bad things over with rather than draw them out. Glau, on the other hand, seemed to be of the opposite opinion.

He cleared his throat while the females in the crowd, and some of their male admirers, waited in agony. "Kirsi Paavo." Those two words dropped from his horrible, twisted mouth like gunshots. They meant the same thing as bullets too; death. My heart stopped and then picked up in double time. I elbowed through the crowd and trudged onto the stage. We didn't bother dressing up at the Home of Orphans. So many eyes looked up at me with a mixture of disdain and relief. They were happy it was me; they were happy it was someone with no mother or father to mourn them. I suppose I would've been happy too if I'd been in their shoes. A sigh of defeat escapes my trembling lips, puffing into the air. The boy they call is a seventeen year old named Tito. I don't even know his last name; nor do I care. My life, for all intents and purposes, is over. This is the end.

Jorum Aneurin: District Twelve

The sun is just peaking out of the horizon when I wake to find my father face down on the floor. I sigh; he's always like this, especially before the reaping. I pull on the only possession I have that was once my mother's. It's her old bonding dress. She got this amazing work of art before she and my dad got married. It's beautiful and she probably had to eat horribly for months to afford it. It is white with intricate lace wrapping all the way around the waist and falling gracefully down to the floor. On the curved neckline are pearls sewn into the smooth fabric. It slides down my body and it fits as perfectly as it fit my mother. I look in the mirror and am horrified by my hair; it is a complete disaster. Not that I usually need to worry about that kind of thing, but today is special. Today is the day of the reaping. I run my hands from the top of my head down to the tangled tips, but it doesn't make a big difference. Eventually I decide that there is nothing more I can do and start to take care of my dad. He will come to the reaping right before they pull the names, but he skips the speeches and useless babble. I tuck him into his bed and head to the door.

I walk out of the, I guess you could call it an apartment, after putting my dad to bed, and start toward the already crowded square. The golden light that leads me toward the crowd begins to grow brighter and makes everything around me clearer. A thin layer of coal dust has settled early this morning and it ruins the possible beauty of the whole scene. As my walk lengthens, children start to run past me. It must be getting close to time pull the names. The mayor goes through the same speech of how the Games were created and then "puts us in the hands of out Escort and Victor".

As the most recent champion of our district, Nonie Raj, and the Escort, Avila Roul, mount the stage, everyone falls silent. This shows the only time when our district is a true community, the silent is almost as loud as the chatter that was just being chatted. This silence resonates in every child awaiting their fate, in every adult worrying about their helpless kids and even the elders, so beyond caring about anything. They are all here, they are all hoping for the lives of their loved ones. Too bad no one is here for me. I've been so preoccupied with my own thoughts that I didn't realize that Nonie has handed the microphone to Avila. She practically hops over to the ball full of names of the girls in our district. My breath quickens and my palms turn sweaty, I pray to anyone that I will not have to go into that awful Arena. Please, I'm only 12; don't let that name be me! Avila's hungry eyes search the crowd, I think she means for it to add dramatic effect, but it only irritates everyone. Tell us the name! I get my wish, but just as soon as the wish was thought, it vanishes. She calls out a name and my heart drops into my stomached. Of course the name that she picks out of 8,000 children is the one that means my death.

"Jorum Aneurin, congratulations! You are the privileged girl who will represent District 12 in the 23rd Hunger Games!" And now Avila is walking over to the container filled with the boy's names. I think I am beyond feeling anything as I stand on this stage, gasping for the breath that just won't come into my body. I am standing as still as a statue and the only moving part of me is my heaving chest. I truly believe that I don't care who's name is called after me, it doesn't matter anymore. As I await to hear who I will be killing within the week, my already frantic heart nearly explodes from my chest. The boy who I have given sideways glances to, cried over, lost sleep over, and ultimately claimed my childhood steps forward. Davor Camillus, he and I were ultimately going to be each other's death. As I looked into the eyes of my school girl crush I realized that that ship had sailed the second my name was drawn from that damn reaping ball. We were going to kill each other. That was the last thought I had before we were whisked away into the custody of the peacekeepers. This is the end.

**This is Tinted Windows's first story so please don't ravage it!**

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	2. Learning To Kill

Jorum Aneurin: District Twelve

I hate to admit it, but the Capitol is an amazing place. The buildings practically sparkle, and if it weren't for my huge embarrassment over my 'costume' this day would be perfect. It's too bad we're only here to die for these selfish people's entertainment. The rest of the night passed by in a blur with all my memories being smashed together into one confusing night. I could pick out different things; dinner, a review of the night, small talk, sleep. They were all piled in one massive memory that was too painful to try to decipher. So I didn't try.

And then I was in the elevator, heading down to the training center that would help me prepare for the games. All the other tributes got there after me and gave my hateful looks because I arrived first. I kept careful track of everyone who entered. The Careers are all enemies, no matter what. Other than those six I don't see anyone particularly menacing. There is a guy from District 3 who resembles a boulder in size, but is no threat to me. I could outrun him easily. And there is also this girl from 11. She is a few inches taller than me, but has the same survivor demeanor. I have a feeling that, if we meet in the Arena, neither of us would go down without a fight. I heard someone call her Kirsi.

I kept my eye on Kirsi all through training. She wasn't one for weapons, but it's obvious she knows how to feed herself. She is very good at using her surroundings to her advantage, even her size contributes to success. I have to remind myself that I will be fighting her, and not to get attached, but there is something about her that makes me curious.

Davor is unbelievably good with brutal killing. I have been keeping an eye trained on him, an old habit, and have realized that he is more than a boy from the Seam. It seems that he has a secret agenda no one knew about.

Kirsi Paavo: District Eleven

The Capitol is a beautiful place of limited use. Everything looks pretty, but most of the mechanical parts wouldn't work without electricity. Though the people have fantastically good looks they wouldn't last a day in District Eleven. Once the initial awe struck fascination passed I could only think of one word to describe it; fragile.

I hated being paraded in front of all those gawking onlookers. They were just waiting to see me die, hoping that it would be dramatic and painful. Tito and I were swathed in some absurd costume with fake fruit sewn all over it. I felt like one of the dress up dolls in the rich merchants' windows.

After an amazing dinner and discussion of strategy with my mentor, some useless girl named Faba, it was time for bed. The next morning I was actually excited to scope out the other tributes in the Training Center. A girl from District Twelve caught my eye right away. The boy from her district, who I soon learned to be a killing machine, called her Jorum. She was about my height but probably a little younger than me. Or maybe she just _looked_ innocent. I'd seen that ruse used many times in the game; appear unskilled and naive so people would count you out of the running.

However if Jorum's goal was to remain discreet she certainly didn't do a good job of it. Her knife throwing skills rivaled those of the Careers. I swear that girl could pin a fly against a wall from a mile off without killing it. How did someone get a talent like that working in the Seam? Jorum had rich black hair that looked thick enough to make wool from. In truth I envied her a bit. Long hair in the branches of District Eleven's fruit trees was an accident waiting to happen. My own reddish, blonde locks were cropped short in a stumpy nest around my head.

"Check out that guy from three," Tito advised, elbowing me as he passed. "He's massive." The eighteen year old was indeed massive. He looked to have spent his whole life with a full belly and warm shoes on his feet. Back home we never had footwear and having me feet enclosed now felt very odd. Despite the Career boy's enormous bands of muscle I wasn't afraid. He might be strong but he also looked slow.

As much as I wanted to stay focused on learning now to use a staff, the weapon I had chosen to work with, Jorum kept catching my eye. I tried to be subtle about it, but she must have seen me looking because she watched me too. There was something about that sparked a flame of curiosity within me. Maybe it was the survival instinct gleaming in her blue eyes. Maybe it was the purposeful way she moved. Maybe it was the way she looked far too innocent to be involved in these deadly games. Whatever the case I knew I wanted Jorum Aneurin as my ally.

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	3. Alliances

Kirsi Paavo: District Eleven

Lunch had finished and the tributes were all waiting restlessly to be called into their private sessions with the Game Makers. Most of the Careers had long ago pulled their chairs into one of the larger tables. It was an act meant to show the others that they would band together and hunt them down like a pack of wolves. Tito, the boy from my district, started making nice with Davor, a lethal killing machine from District Twelve. Apparently I'm too scrawny and worthless to interest him; he's seventeen after all and has a much better chance of winning. Jorum was also seated at a vacant table. Her eyes were misty as if lost in some world far away from this morbid place.

On a whim I stood and claimed the chair across from her. Jorum looked up in confusion. "Um…can I help you?" she wondered.

"You looked lonely," I responded evasively.

"Well we'll all be pretty lonely soon won't we?" Jorum sighed, though she seemed slightly amused by my comment. Her eyes drifted slowly towards Davor, the brutal boy from her district. I wasn't very knowledgeable on the subject of love, but I wasn't blind either.

"Well that's rotten luck," I muttered.

"What is?" Jorum questioned guiltily.

"It's rotten luck that you came here with your crush." She blushed and averted her eyes.

"He is not my crush."

"Sure he isn't." There was a pause and Jorum seemed to be searching for a concrete argument. "I can see why you like him. The ability to kill mercilessly is quite attractive." When I see Jorum's eyes I know I've crossed a line. That tends to happen when I'm making jokes, especially with people I don't know. "Sorry," I muttered. Apologies aren't my forte either.

"It's ok," Jorum replied. "And you're right; I have liked Davor for longer than I care to admit. It was a stupid little schoolgirl crush though; stuff like that doesn't matter in the Arena."

"Maybe it does," I suggested, trying to cheer her up. "You've probably paid more attention to Davor than most people; perhaps you've picked up on some of his weaknesses." Jorum's face brightened at this prospect. "He's afraid of wolves," she told me, thinking hard. "I think his father was killed by a pack of wild dogs when he went under the fence to harvest apples in the woods." Suddenly she frowned. "I shouldn't have told you that, you'll be trying to kill me within the week."

"We don't have to be enemies," I pointed out. "Two heads are better than one."

"Only one of us can win; we'd have to fight each other."

"Odds are we won't survive long enough for that to happen. If it does you'll win; I can't throw a knife like you can."

"There might not be knives," Jorum muttered, though I could see that she liked the idea. "I saw you using that staff; you were pretty good. There's bound to be plenty of branches in the Arena."

"There's more likely to be knives than branches," I pressed. We locked eyes in a silent stare down, each weighing the pros and cons.

Jorum Aneurin: District Twelve

As I stared at Kirsi, I realized that it might not be a bad idea to team up. She is right, after all. Two heads are better than one, but only when they are thinking the same thing. Two heads trying to kill each other is a whole new kind of mess that I have no intention of discovering. And why on earth am I actually considering making her my ally!? It is plain and simple, no allies, no drama. I have had enough drama to last my whole life. I think I could bear another eight days of drama though, that is probably as long as I will last in the arena, anyway. But still, when I look into her green eyes that are speckled with brown, I can't help but want to be friends with her and protect her. Not that she needs protecting, she will probably reach the final 8. I wish I could at least reach the final 8. Ugh, there I go again, I have hardly been able to keep my mind in the place and time that my body is in. Thinking this I look up and see that Kirsi is staring at me expectantly. Immediately I am brought back to the present.

"You want to know something?" I ask, she looks at me and raises her eyebrows. I take this as a yes and say, "I am not the one you should be teaming up with, you'd be better off being allies with that bread over there for all the help I'll be. I don't even know how to think about killing someone, let alone do it with my own two hands. Really, don't pick me." I try to say this like I am above her, but even I can hear the pain in my voice as I realize what I am saying is true. How can kill someone?

Krisi looks at me with understanding eyes and reaches over to touch my shoulder. I shrug out from under it, I don't like feeling weak. _You better get used to it_, I think to myself. "Trust me," Kirsi says, "I wouldn't pick you as an ally unless I was positive that you'd be worth it."

This statement makes me want to be her ally more than anything, but I don't know if I should. _What am I going to do?_ As I open my mouth to give her my answer, the man at the door asks for District Eleven's girl tribute and Kirsi is off. That will be the last time I see her until the interviews, I hope that I can sort out my thoughts by tomorrow, if I don't, I will not have an ally no matter what I choose.

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	4. Scores and Interviews

Jorum Aneurin: District Twelve

I watched as Kirsi disappeared through those ominous doors, behind which were the people who would decide how much I was worth when it came to surviving. I realized how close the Games were and wondered if it would be a good idea to have an ally. Would it give me a leg up, or bring my down to rock bottom? And how would we find each other once in the Arena? After the bloodbath we could end up on opposite sides of that outdoor slaughterhouse. Would our sponsors, if we had any, approve of an alliance? It was all so complex. Thinking of sponsors brought me back to the present, I realized that Tito had already left to go into the training center and I would be called next. The scores I received today would give a good estimate as to how many sponsors I would get in the Arena. And let's face it; sponsors are what would save my life. If I got any that is. Of course, now I was really stressing out because I started to think about the very near future, which I promised myself I wouldn't do. The Games are not something you should dwell on other than to wonder when they will end. When will the nightmare end?

Before I could prepare myself the man at the door called my name and I felt my legs contract and muscles move as I walked through the doors, but I was not in control of myself. I walked numbly over to the knife station and grasped the deadliest one I saw. It had a wicked curve on the end and was sharp enough to cut diamonds.

With a few knives in hand I strode to the opposite side of the room. Someone before me took something off of a chain about a centimeter thick, but they left the chain dangling from the wall. As I take aim, I see the Game Makers trying to see what I am aiming at. They gazed at me like I was insane because the tiny chain was so easy to overlook. I let the knife fly out of my hand and saw it slice through one link of the chain. Five feet of it fell to the ground. Next I set my sights on a cloth that had been fastened around an arrow for who knows what reason. Again, I took aim and, again the Game Makers looked incredulous, but they were paying more attention now. I flung my second knife toward the arrow and watched as the blade ripped the cloth and released the arrow. The rest of my session with the Game Makers went similar to my first two throws until they excused me and I left with a smug look on my face. Who knew all those years of carving random branches of wood would pay off so well? At least, innocent woodcarving was my excuse for being so good with a knife.

Dinner went the same way it had for the past week. There was hollow small talk and meaningless flattery, then everyone, my useless mentor, brainless prep team and annoying escort, left for the presentation of the training scores. It wasn't a very big shock; all the Careers got in the 9s and 10s, most everyone else was in the 5 to 7 range. I was actually a little surprised because Tito and Kirsi each pulled an 8. Davor got a 10. I guess the Game Makers enjoyed his brutality; it's what the bloodthirsty Capitol citizens are looking for. My score was the last to show up and all the breath was knocked out of me when I saw it. The Game Makers gave me a two.

A two! That was probably some of the best knife throwing they'd ever seen! Why, on this great green planet, would they rate me as a two? Had I done something wrong, was this their means of punishment? What could I have done to deserve such punishment? I was still in shock as everyone filed out of the room. I couldn't even begin to fathom the Game Makers' reasoning.

I wondered if this was a sick joke; but the Hunger Games are deadly serious. Nothing to joke about. That score showed just how alone I would be in these Games. I bet Kirsi was kicking herself for offering to be my ally. That option is out of the question now.

Kirsi Paavo: District Eleven

The scores for the private training sessions came as a bit of a shock to me. Of course the Careers all got nines and tens, but somehow I pulled off a miraculous eight. Tito seemed upset to have also gotten an eight; he clearly didn't want to be compared with a lousy fifteen year old girl. The biggest surprise came when Jorum's ranking was a two. My mind became a whirl of questions. I'd seen her throw those knives; I knew just how good she was. Maybe Jorum demonstrated another, less developed skill for the Game Makers so she could lay low. But if she was trying to remain inconspicuous what was with the impressive talent she displayed at group training? Whatever the case I was genuinely baffled.

Jorum's interview didn't shed any light on the subject either. Her answers were vague and unimpressive. She spoke with a homesick longing and innocence radiated from her deep, blue eyes. This frustrated me beyond belief; I don't like people I can't figure out. Perhaps Jorum wouldn't be a good ally in the Arena. Who else would I choose though? No one? That idea paints such a picture of bleak loneliness that I instinctively shy away.

My interview was less than stellar. Faba suggested that I play it fierce and cocky. Luckily my acting skill are good, because I'm not a bit confident about my chances in these Games. Fierce I can do though. You don't last long in the House of Orphans without a certain degree of ferocity. Some of the other kids called me Fire Tongue because I was so quick to talk back with a witty retort.

As Caesar Flickerman fires questions at me I respond with snappy answers that emphasize brutal survivor I am. Mainly the subject focuses on how hard things were in the House of Orphans; how I competed with kids much bigger than me for the little food we were offered, how my feet were nothing but hardened calluses because I'd never worn shoes before, how the winter sometimes forced us to forage for roots since there wasn't anything else to be had. Not only does this topic make me look tough, but it also plays on the audience's sympathies. The determined girl from a poor district with a sad life and no parents; it reads like a sob story all the way. Poor tragically fierce me.

**Sorry that the story's been a little slow; the Games will start in the next chapter and there will be **_**plenty**_** of action…hopefully our three reviewers are still reading…let us know that you're out there and tell your friends!**


	5. Let the Games Begin

**I know that our choice of Arena doesn't seem too imaginative now but it will get plenty interesting later…don't you worry…please review and let us know that you're out there! **

Kirsi Paavo: District Eleven

The Cornucopia rose into view as I moved upwards on a round metal plate. An almost perfect circle of hard packed dirt surrounded the great golden horn, which fairly glowed in the scorching sunlight. On all sides the small clearing was surrounded by thick forest. In District Eleven we had neatly planted orchards, not messy clumps of hardy pine trees. Luckily our fields were planted over an area that once held similar woods so the foliage should be familiar. My time to take things in was trickling away so I quickly scanned the supplies surrounding the Cornucopia. Of course there were weapons, but only a staff or knife would be at all useful to me.

Close by I saw a sturdy leather satchel, the kind you'd carry over one shoulder. It looked useful and who knew what could be inside? There was also a rolled up package that appeared to be a bedroll. That's when I saw the staff. It was long and tapered with slim blades skillfully set into the end. Though the staff was much closer to the Cornucopia than was safe part of me thrilled at the opportunity for a challenge, a risk.

The starting cannon blew a deafening hole in the stifling silence of the last few seconds. I rocketed towards the staff and clasped its firm handle in my shaking hands. Rolling onto one knee I swept the area for signs of danger. The Careers had reached the Cornucopia and everyone else was either lifeless on the ground or high tailing it for the forest. I moved backwards and scooped the satchel over my shoulder before stuffing the bedroll-package inside.

By then the Careers had their weapons and spotted me alone on the empty field. One held a bow so, unless I wanted an arrow in my back, running wasn't an option, though that was clearly what they expected. Instead I dropped my shoulders and barreled into their midst at a dead sprint. Though I'd only had a day to practice fighting with a staff it felt natural in my hands and surprise was on my side. I swung the bladed side into one girl's stomach and then drove the blunt end down on someone's toe. Skittering out of the deadly crowd I waited for them to come after me, but they didn't. Instead their deadly eyes appraised me, as though judging a particularly large carrot.

With a jolt of nausea I realized they wanted me to join them. A thick haired boy from District One moved forward warily with an open expression on his hard face. "Would you care to call a truce?" he wondered calmly, knowing that I couldn't refuse and expect to live. The girl I stabbed was on the ground bleeding and they hadn't given her a second glance. I'd rather ally myself with Jorum and her lousy two than cast my lot with this crew of savages.

"Kiss my ass!" I spat at them, and proceeded to sprint into the forest at full speed. An arrow struck one of the nearby trees but I was spiked up on adrenaline now and ready to run for hours. They wouldn't catch me. A cannon sounded as I departed.

A lot of time passed before I stopped to rest. Kneeling on the forest floor my shaking hands flipped the satchel open. Inside was a water skin full to bursting with life sustaining liquid. A tiny black pouch held one crumbly black rock; flint. Luckily the blades on my staff were probably made of steel. Far away I heard the cannon begin to count out casualties. Six brassy explosions ticked of the death toll. Some deep part of me hoped that Jorum wasn't among the bodies already stiffening. Beneath the flint and water skin I found a small supply of dry fruit and a bag of jerky. Combining these things with my staff I had a better start than I could've dreamed of.

When evening fell I was still tromping through the brush, trying to put distance between the Careers and myself. _Man they must be really pissed at me, _I thought with a chuckle. It probably wouldn't be so hilarious when the boy from District One was slitting my throat in revenge, but for now it amused me. Nightfall was close by, so I went about looking for a place to sleep. Some nasty looking brambles provided excellent cover but when I unrolled what I thought was a bedroll it turned out to be a collection of impressive knives. They were laid out on a long, rolled up strip of leather, each in its own little pocket. These weren't meant for hunting or sawing; they were meant to stop the heart of another human being. I shuddered to think of the damage Jorum could do if these knives were in her possession.

Somewhat unhappy that my last piece of loot had been a flop I burrowed under some pine needles and waited for sleep to find me. Though apprehension and a hungry stomach (I didn't dare waste any food that I didn't absolutely need) kept me awake for awhile my eyes were closed by the time the anthem played and dead faces lit the sky. My dreams were full of the girl I'd slaughtered. The movement that ended her life was so quick and instinctual, but that made it all the worse.

Jorum Aneurin: District Twelve

As the sixty seconds of agony began, I took in my surroundings. The Cornucopia was shining so bright it hurt to even glance at it. What on earth was making that sun so blinding? Oh well, it wasn't important, only the Games are important. Nothing else. I tried to focus on where I was so I could plan my course of action. All the tributes were in a straight line with the Cornucopia dead ahead. Of course the Game Makers wouldn't space us evenly, I was one of the farthest people from the golden horn. The hard dirt beneath my feet unsettled me; there should be grass, not dirt so compact that it's almost cement. Before I knew what was going on, the starting cannon blew and everyone moved at the same time. Some sped towards the cornucopia, running so fast that they are out of view within seconds. By the time I could bring myself to move the Careers were already searching for victims.

A girl from One turned my way, but she was sidetracked when Kirsi came barreling toward them. I was so shocked to see someone running _towards_ the Careers that I didn't realize it might be my only chance at escape. After a quick scuffle Kirsi yelled "Kiss my ass!" and sprinted into the woods. I ran after her at full speed, praying to God, if there was any, that she still wanted me as an ally. If not, Kirsi would kill me for sure.

It took all my willpower, but I continued to run even when the immediate danger of the Games left my mind. Then it seemed like a very long stroll through some unfamiliar woods, with no way to get food or any form of protection. Rather than dwell on the uncertain future I simply let my mind wander over everything that had happened in the last week.

"_Jorum, how does it feel to be in the Capitol? After living in District Twelve, this must be quite a change for you." That was Caesar Flickerman, always raving about the Capitol. Oh, how amazing it is! Just look at that outfit; gorgeous! Did you see the sky today? It was beautiful! Ugh, I don't want to be here! I thought to myself while I tried to remember Caesar's question. Hmmm, how does it feel to be in the Capitol?_

_ "I feel very trapped. I just want to go home, no matter how different District Twelve is from here." I say this in a monotone because I'm so homesick I could cry. Why can't I just go home?_

_ "Well, don't you just adore the food? It's delicious!"_

_ "I haven't been able to eat since I got here. The food is too much to handle. I prefer bread with a lot of grain in it, not this white stuff you have here."_

_ "Why don't you tell us about that training score of yours, huh? It must have been quite a surprise to you"_

_ "It was a surprise, considering I demonstrated the most amazing knife throwing I bet any of them have ever seen." I'd said too much. Training sessions were utterly private, but I guess I won't get in trouble for it now. It's not like I tried to hide it during group training. Maybe that's why the Game Makers gave me a two, because I didn't show them anything new. Repetition never gets good scores._

_ The timer that ended my interview went off and I walked to my seat until the anthem played and I was taken to the Training Center for the night. I needed sleep, after all, the Games started tomorrow._

I walked all through the night without noticing. I didn't sleep, eat or see anyone else for seven hours. What an awful player I am. I could have been making a huge racket and wouldn't have noticed. My stupid mind comes over me a lot. I hate it when my thoughts wander for so long. I get distracted easily and right then I was _very_ distracted. I was about to find a spot to rest for the night when something caught my eye. I saw a leather strap hanging out of some bushes.

I bent over to pull it out from under the brush, but it was stuck. So, I yanked hard, and I mean _hard_, but the leather would not budge. As I knelt down to investigate, I noticed that the cloth was attached to a bag, and that Kirsi was laying on top of that bag. Cautiously, I bent over and covered her mouth with my hand. Then I shook her awake.

She screamed and it was lucky I covered her mouth or everyone in a two mile radius would have heard. Kirsi looked at me with wide eyes, uncomprehending. Then she must have figured out it was me because she relaxed. I removed my hand from her mouth and waited for her to speak. Suddenly Kirsi's body tensed again and I saw her grasp a deadly looking staff.

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	6. The Water Ripple

Jorum Aneurin: District Twelve

Kirsi looked at me with wild eyes and brought her staff over her head. I instantly leapt off and slowly backed away. I wish I'd the courage to go to the Cornucopia like she did; I could have knives now. Not that I would kill her; I don't think I could. Kirsi was still stalking me, but she looked more in check with herself, she seemed to be calculating.

"So are you here to kill me?" She is being a huge idiot right now; I am obviously not here to kill her. _Do you see any weapons?_ I wanted to say. And _she_ was the one who said we should be allies! God, she needs to get a grip.

"You are the only human being in the immediate area that I would even begin to consider allying myself with. Why would I try to kill you?" I love answering question with questions. It gives more information about the person you are talking to and I like knowing everything there is to know about where I am and who I'm with. It makes me feel secure, like I'm in control. When everything else is going wrong, at least I will know what is going on.

"I don't know what to believe anymore." She mutters this, I don't think I was not supposed to hear her, and then she continues louder, "Well, how do I know if you are really going to be my ally, and not stab my in the back. Literally." I have to smile at this, even in this situation; she still has some dry humor.

In answer I show her how I have no way to defend myself. "I don't have any weapons, is that enough proof for you? I just walked up to a person with excellent spear throwing skills in the middle of the night. Unless I wanted to die, which I don't, then that would qualify me as insane. Which I am not."

Kirsi gives me one hard look before dropping her spear. I approach her slowly, never breaking eye contact. I have discovered that, if you want someone to trust you, you have to look them in the eye.

I had to get at least 10 hostile kids from the community home to trust me. Apparently, I wasn't enough for my dad. After my mom died of pneumonia, he just lost himself. So I had to be nice to the replacement children he got. I don't think he even wanted to see me, I must have reminded him too much of my mother. He didn't even come to say goodbye to me after the reaping, he just looked at me from the sidelines.

_I was standing there, my body unmoving, while my eyes were looking everywhere at once. Finally, they landed on my one living family member. He was looking past me, like he was remembering some very old memory. My father. My disgusting, hatful, empty father. I think a part of him died with my mom, after she was gone, he was a disaster. He stated going to the community home about a year after she died. It surprised me because we were getting along, actually talking. But then he started drinking, drinking a lot. I would get up before school and find him in a pool of his own vomit. My father, who stopped going to work, stopped loving and caring about anything, including me. And now, my name was being drawn out of the reaping ball, and he didn't even blink. He just looked at me for a split second, then turned around and walked away. He walked away into his own personal hell. His wife was dead, his daughter going to die, and he hadn't had a drink in a day. What a life. My father, Jorin Aneurin, who I got my name from, walked away. And he never made eye contact._

__An intense wave of sadness swept over me and Kirsi's eyes softened. She could see right through me. I like that.

"Is something wrong? I still want to be allies! I promise." She really is observant. I sit down and we talk for a while. Actually, we talk all night. She tells me about her home life, district eleven. It is so interesting, I wish I could see district eleven. It would be amazing to see nature being tamed, orderly rows of trees, where all the fruit is picked and processed. It sounds like a fairy tale.

As dawn is breaking, I yawn. This, of course, makes her yawn and the tension of the last week is so immediate that I cannot control myself. At this intense breaking point we look at each other and burst out laughing, which is not a good idea, but that doesn't stop us. By the time our little fit has pasted, my sides and cheeks hurt.

"We should get some sleep; I wouldn't be able to trek through this ridiculous jungle while I'm so tired." I say, because I am really tired, I bet she is, too. She nods and smiles at me, I know why she is so happy. I am almost delirious, I have a friend. I didn't have very many friends even back home, so the fact that we met because of the Hunger Games is so weird. I give her one of my best smiles and lay down. I am almost completely under when she hops up. I sit bolt up and look around. No one is near us. _What is your deal?_ I think. Then she is running into the forest.

Kirsi comes back with a triumphant smile and dramatically hand me a leather roll. With a final flourish of her hand, I open the roll. I gasp because I have gotten the best gift. An intense roll of wicked looking knives. From dainty little life ending ones to giant meat-hacking ones. I love that I chose to be allies with her, she is the perfect person to team up with, especially because my mentor probably chose Davor to had all the gifts to. I will be getting no help from the outside world.

Then I lay down again, clutching my lifeline, because that is what these knives are.

***

When I wake up the anthem is blaring, no one has found us during the day. Or maybe they have, I look around desperately for Kirsi. I had only had as a friend for a day, I would not lose that. But she is sitting up, leaning against a tree. A look of relief spreads across my face, I'm sure she can tell because she gives me a curious look

"I thought someone found us and you were gone." I explain, I'm sure she understands why this would worry me, so I don't elaborate.

Kirsi nods and looks around, "We should get going, can you hunt? I could probably spear some rabbit or something, but I don't know how to skin or gut it. Do you have any idea how to do that?"

"Yeah, before my dad zoned out, he was a butcher. I can skin, gut and cook any kind of meat you give me." I say this quietly because the other players could be anywhere. I hate not knowing where everyone is, it is so frustrating! I feel very vulnerable now. So I stand and grab my knives, looking at Kirsi expectantly. She has spent more time in woods, technically orchids, than me. She starts walking into the woods, passing through some thick bushes. I am about to follow when she comes running back out.

"Wrong way!" She shouts, that's when I see the water slowly, but steadily coming faster, seeping through the foliage. Then I see the giant wave rising above the tallest trees. And before I can get swept up into the death trap, I am running blindly behind Kirsi. Running for me life.

Kirsi Paavo: District Eleven

In District Eleven there's water all around. We have huge irrigation canals that are constantly brimming with life giving liquid. Sitting still, or slowly sweeping from pipe to pipe, it looks totally calm and tranquil. Compared to the other elements, wind that can topple trees, fire that can burn down houses, earth that can crush people, water seems pretty harmless. However I was quick to learn exactly how dangerous liquid could be when one of the dams broke, flooding an orchard I was working in. The kids in District Eleven know how to swim, irrigation canals make great pools when the harvest isn't going on, so I wasn't afraid when the wave came crashing in.

Then the water hit me. It was like a punch in the gut and suddenly I was spinning in a great soup of darkness. Currents clutched at my body and I didn't know which way was up. Luckily the flood swept me into a thick tree trunk and I was able to scramble out of the torrent and climb to safety.

The trees in District Eleven were engineered to grow taller than normal ones, but here in the Arena climbing wouldn't do much good. So I ran. Jorum came behind me, clutching her knives in terror. I hoped, for her sake, that the roll of leather would make a good flotation device. The Capitol makes sure that we don't know much about other districts, but I'm pretty sure there isn't much water in District Twelve; just rocks. Which means Jorum doesn't know how to swim. Which means she's screwed if we don't get to higher ground.

I'm older and a little taller, so the running comes more naturally. Jorum's struggling after only five minutes or so, I can hear her panting. We're headed back towards the Cornucopia and as far as I know there's nothing between us and there but open woods. Crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. Then it hits me. There's food at the Cornucopia and usually the bulk amounts of it, the stuff the Careers get, is stored in crates. They probably took most of it to their camp, wherever that is, but surely they couldn't carry _all_ the crates. And crates float.

"We've got to get to the Cornucopia!" I shouted over my shoulder, slightly adjusting my course. Too slow; water's already lapping at my feet. As the ground turns into a sloppy mess of mud it becomes harder and harder to run. It seems that the wave is slowing infinitesimally; it's not very entertaining if there's no suspense. The Game Makers will give us a small chance to reach the Cornucopia, for the audience's sake.

After what feels like an eternity I finally spotted the edge of the trees and beyond that a shining golden horn. And there in the mouth is a flat-ish crate. I feel like singing but the water is now up to my knees. Jorum's breath came in ragged gasps behind me. When I reached the mouth of the Cornucopia I quickly rolled the crate out and waited for Jorum, who reached me just as the wave overtook her.

Her fingers grasped at the slats of wood and the water lifted us upwards. I snatched Jorum's roll of knives from the frothing current and tucked it under my arm. We were swept past needle laden tree tops surrounded by other floating debris. I thought I saw a lot of food packages, so maybe the Careers would lose their precious resources in this flood.

Jorum and I clung, panting to the crate until the water finally lowered; sinking into the earth as though it'd never existed. Four cannons rent the moist air in quick succession. Eleven contestants left to kill. Twelve if I count Jorum, which I don't because I'd never be able to kill her. She appeared to be thinking the same thing.

"Thirteen overall," Jorum announced, sitting wearily down on our makeshift raft. "It's unlucky."

"Do you think the Gamemakers are superstitious?"

"Who knows?" Well, there'd been deaths now, so the audience should be satiated. It wasn't a guarantee that there wouldn't be any more tricks in the near future; drowning wasn't a very entertaining way to die.

"Where do you think we are?" I queried, totally unsure. There weren't any defining characteristics in the surrounding forest.

"I hear water," Jorum commented, tilting her head to listen better.

"That's a good sign," I commented. "Water's pretty essential."

"When you aren't drowning in it," my companion pointed out in a slightly joking voice. I nodded with a small grin.

"So…" My voice trailed off into a muddle of uncertainty. "I guess we should head towards the water." At that moment Jorum's stomach snarled, reminding me of another vital resource. "It would probably be a good idea to start looking for edible plants too. Or any animals that you can hit with a knife." I tossed the roll of weapons back into Jorum's arms. She hugged them to her torso and turned toward the waters sound. But she didn't move, I realized after a few moments later that she expected me to go first. So, just like earlier, I started into the woods with Jorum trailing closely behind me.


End file.
